


If you wait for a cake to be given to you

by Ingi



Category: Beauty and the Beast (2017), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Belle (Disney) Is Hermione Granger's Ancestor, Cogsworth And Lumiere Are Gay Soulmates, Crack Treated Seriously, Gen, Hermione Granger Is So Done, Humor, Minor Sirius Black/James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, POV Hermione Granger, Wizards Cogsworth And Lumiere
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-22
Updated: 2017-07-22
Packaged: 2018-12-05 09:48:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11575572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ingi/pseuds/Ingi
Summary: "Don't you wish our lives were more interesting?" Harry says, with a sigh.They're in a cuddle pile in the Gryffindor common room's sofa, which is convenient, because Hermione can easily reach to slap his arm. After nearly seven years, though, they are at that point in their friendship in which he doesn't even startle, just shifts slightly under Hermione's arm before leaning back against her chest."Don't say things like that!" she chides. "You never know what magical creature could be listening, waiting to send us to some horrible alternate reality."





	If you wait for a cake to be given to you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nrandom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nrandom/gifts).



> Okay, this is the LAST fic I write for Belle/Voldy, I s2g. And entirely Nrandom's fault, as usual (*waves fist* can u not).  
> Sort of an spin-off/sequel for [To love a Voldemort](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11318223).

"Don't you wish our lives were more interesting?" Harry says, with a sigh.

They're in a cuddle pile in the Gryffindor common room's sofa, which is convenient, because Hermione can easily reach to slap his arm. After nearly seven years, though, they are at that point in their friendship in which he doesn't even startle, just shifts slightly under Hermione's arm before leaning back against her chest.

"Don't say things like that!" she chides. "You never know what magical creature could be listening, waiting to send us to some horrible alternate reality."

"You're not usually this superstitious," Ron points out, from where he's sprawled on Harry's lap.

Hermione scowls, because well, he's not _wrong_.

"I've just- I had a-" She glares at them, just in case. "I've just had a really bad feeling, that's all."

"Fair enough," Ron says, exchanging a quick glance with Harry.

Hermione huffs, but ultimately decides to pretend she hasn't noticed. They're taking their NEWTs soon, and this is their first relaxed afternoon in what feels like ages. Most seventh year students are at Hogsmeade, or alternatively, in the library, but Ron threatened to set all her books on fire if she insisted on keeping studying —not that she would have, for the record; there's only so much reading even _she_ can take. And going to Hogsmeade looked like too much unnecessary work, since Harry had just received some strawberry angel food cake from Sirius —who has become obsessed with a half-wizarding half-muggle bakery, at James and Lily's amusement.

"Eat cake," she tells them, gesturing towards what's left of angel food cake.

There are many unspoken, not-so-kind meanings behind the words, but it's hard to tell if they get them. It's always hard to tell. There's oblivious and then there's her boys.

"Ughh, no, thank you," Ron groans. "I'm so full of whipped cream, I think if I eat any more I'll just _die_."

"Yeah, and last time we were in Hogsmeade, when uncle Sirius kind of kidnapped me while you guys were looking at the Fizzing Whizzbees?" Harry says. "He took me back home to feed me cake, too. _Lots_ of it."

"How did your mom let him?" Hermione replies, horrified. That was not what she meant to say, but a dentist's kid is- well, a dentist's kid. "And I told you, Harry, you don't need to call him uncle for anyone's sake," she adds. She'd nudge Ron, because Merlin knows he needs the signal, but he's too far away. "He was dad until a few months ago. Don't you think he's going to be hurt if he hears you calling him uncle?"

"He _is_ kind of really married to both of your other parents, mate," Ron says. "At this point, calling him uncle is even a little creepy."

"What?" Harry startles, almost adopting what approaches a normal, human posture for a second. "No, I thought I'd told you. _He_ 's the one making me call him uncle. I mean, dad always said Sirius only wanted me to call him dad too because he thought the confusion was hilarious. You know, dad and dad. But now it makes him feel old, apparently."

Ron snorts. Hermione holds back her own sigh.

"Well, at least we'll finally be spared of the whole double dad business."

"I dunno, 'Mione, I think it was neat," Ron replies, cheerily. "No need to say 'mom and dad and dad' when you can just say 'mom and double dad'. Has a quite nice ring to it, really."

Harry starts laughing under his breath, and Hermione is certain it's at whatever expression she's making right now, nevermind that he can't actually see it. Ron flops over to lay on his chest, with the sole purpose of hiding his face in Harry's lap. And _really_ , she loves them, but if she lets them goad her into this argument again, she's going to straight up murder them.

"Did you see Dumbledore's visitors?" she changes the topic. Hmm, not as smooth as she would've liked. "They looked familiar, didn't they? Was it just me?"

"The tall one with the- uh, bow and the one who was always checking his watch?" Ron says. "They were dressed like muggles from like, centuries ago. Pretty sure I would've remembered them if I'd ever met them."

Harry is silent for a moment. Hermione nudges him a bit to make sure he hasn't fallen asleep, but leaves him to it when it's clear he's only thinking.

"I think it felt like I'd met them before, too," he finally shrugs. "But Ron has a point."

"Aww, look at that, they're talking about us!"

Ron falls off Harry's lap and starts cursing everything under the sky —somewhere, Molly is probably having a heart attack—, and Harry and Hermione engange in a very embarrassing dance, competing for who gets to shove the other behind them to shield them. They all stop and calm down when they realize that there's absolutely no reason to behave like that. It's not like there's a mass murderer on the loose, for Merlin!

"Uhm," Harry says to the two wizards who have just popped into their common room, pretending —badly— he's not trying to hide behind Hermione. It's even more awkward because of the fact that he's still on top of her. "Hi."

Ron crawls back up and settles beside Harry, sullenly staring at his knees.

"Hi," the short wizard replies, with a sigh. "Please forgive- eh, Lumiere. I'd like to say he's not usually like this, but-"

"Yes, yes, you love me," Lumiere says, waving the words away. "This is Cogsworth, my grumpy sidekick. I know they're supposed to be funny, but Coggie here didn't get the memo."

"Uhh- you could have... just sent an owl?" Ron says, weakly.

Hermione blinks. She takes Harry by the shoulder and makes him turn around, enough so he can look her in the eye. She's reassured by the deadpan face he's sharing with her, so she releases him, and he reaches out and pulls Ron back into their cuddle pile, patting his arm in sympathy.

"Anyway," Lumiere grins, brightly. "We're done speaking with Dumbledork, but we just _couldn't_ leave without giving miss Granger here a very special gift."

"I still think this is a terrible idea," Cogsworth mumbles.

"Ah, but they must learn from their past! Well, possible past. Pseudo-past. Alternate-"

"You're just doing it for the lulz!"

Before Hermione can speak up —to say what, she doesn't know; she doesn't think she's ever been this utterly baffled—, they stop glaring at each other, and Lumiere drops a book on Harry's lap, nearly smacking it against Ron's head.

"Well, _au revoir_!" Lumiere sing-songs.

And they _Disapparate_. Just like that.

"Yeah, I'm finishing that cake now," Ron mumbles, after a beat of silence, and hands the book over to Hermione so he can reach the plate.

 

* * *

 

"Oh, Merlin, are you studying _again_?"

"Harry, mate, it happens that you have to study more than once for things to stick. I know, I know, I don't understand it either."

"Stop it, you two," Hermione orders over the snickering, and gestures for them to come closer, not taking her eyes off the book. The sofa's armrest is digging into her back, but she can't afford to shift and lose her focus. "Look at this! This book- it's the one those wizards gave me, and it keeps talking about a war!"

"Fascinating, 'Mione," Harry says. Hermione doesn't need to see him to know he's scrunching his nose. "The Goblin Rebellions again?"

"No! A war that never happened."

"So you're reading... fiction?" Ron tentatively suggests.

"I don't _know_!" Hermione whines, hiding her face in her hands. "It's from a legit non-fiction publisher; I checked. And everything- everything _makes sense_ , except for how it didn't happen. And- and it mentions you too, Harry! Or at least, someone who's also called Harry Potter."

"Cool, mate, you're famous!" Ron says, and Hermione hears the unmistakable sound of a high-five over her shoulder.

She sighs very, very deeply.

"I know this is- strange, but I've looked up the name of the madman the book mentions, the one who started the war, and- well, his address is right there-"

"Sure, Hermione, we can go," Harry says, without even thinking about it.

"Yeah, we can go to Hogsmeade and then sneak out," Ron agrees. "It'll be fun."

Yes, well. _Fun_ is an interesting word for what happens.

The address is in muggle London, and they find it easily enough, but it's only when they're literally in front of it that Harry says _Oh, so that's why it sounded familiar!_ and proceeds to explain that they've ended up, somehow, in the bakery Sirius is so in love with.

"Okay, this is weird," Hermione mumbles to herself.

"Sweet, we can have a snack now!" Harry says at the same time, beaming.

So she follows them into the bakery and, sure enough, there's a huge exhibition of desserts in there —angel food cake included. And, behind it, there's also a very handsome man frosting cupcakes.

"I'll get a dozen of the red ones," a grandma is saying, as she eyes them hungrily. "It's my wife's birthday today," she adds with a grin, turning towards them.

Hermione would be hard-pressed to say whether she's a witch or a muggle. Both kinds of grandmas have the tendency to overshare, after all. She smiles back at her either way, and sees Harry and Ron doing the same from the corner of her eye.

"Here you go, Annie," the man replies, offering her the box. "Do congratulate Priya in my behalf!"

"You just want her to invite you over for samosa again, you sly dog," Annie says, affectionately, as she takes the box from him.

She receives a wink in return, and a smile that is- not unkind, not at all, but it does seem to have a _lot_ more teeth than smiles are meant to. Or maybe it's just that they're very threatening teeth, for some reason, which is odd because Hermione has seen her fair share of teeth in her life —dentists' daughter, again— and she's never seen _threatening_ ones. Plus, the baker looks a little like- well, no, it's not as much that he looks like a snake as that he _feels_ like a snake, if that makes any sense.

"Your baseless accusations are like daggers to my heart," the man huffs.

"And speaking about heart!" Annie exclaims, beaming. "How's your fiancé? Still working himself to death for the Squibs In Hogwarts initiative?"

"Of course. And he keeps insisting that he would've liked to be sorted into Hufflepuff, no matter how I explain that Slytherin is _clearly_ superior."

"Stubborn boy," the grandma chuckles, and suddenly seems to remember that she's not alone in the bakery. "Oh, sorry, my dears, I didn't mean to get in your way! Don't worry, I'll be going now- Ah, until next time, Tommy!"

The man waves her goodbye and then focus his attention on them. Hermione automatically takes a step back.

"Tom Riddle?" she blurts out.

"The one and only," he replies, smirking. "What can I do for you?"

Well, apparently, he can sell them some really good cupcakes. Hermione still can't help but feel dejected as they walk out of the bakery, even as she munches on those —admittedly delicious— cavities bombs.

"It was a ridiculous idea," she sighs.

"What?" Ron startles. "We found your guy _and_ cupcakes. Life doesn't get much better, 'Mione."

"Yes, but it wasn't _him_ ," Hermione insists, frustrated. "Of course it wasn't him! That war never even happened!"

"Well, maybe it did, in some alternate universe or something," Harry says, rubbing her back for comfort. "Who knows."

"Can you really imagine a racist, murderous madman becoming a baker and settling down with a Hufflepuff squib, though?" she replies.

"I guess-" Harry starts, but then only shrugs.

"Hey, maybe, if he weren't too busy with murder and stuff," Ron says.

Hermione sighs again. Harry, after a brief second of deliberation, offers her one of his cupcakes.

 

* * *

 

The NEWTs are barely weeks away, but Harry and Ron are outside, playing Quidditch, because of course they are. Meanwhile, Hermione stays in the common room and pretends she's absorbing anything of what she's studying. She can't stop herself from turning the book the wizards gave her in her hands, over and over again, like it will somehow spit out all its secrets if she makes it dizzy enough.

Until a piece of paper falls out.

It's a photograph, Hermione realizes, a magical one. It shows what's clearly a couple, dressed in formal wizarding clothes from around the seventeeth century and standing in front of an old castle. While Hermione watches, the woman with busy hair takes the man's hand, beaming, and the man- the man, he- he stares directly into the camera and smiles with too many teeth. His pupils are only slits.

Hermione, heart nearly beating out of her chest and hands shaking, turns the photograph around. And there, horrifyingly stark against the white background, is the inscription:

_**Tom Marvolo Riddle and Belle Wilkins** _

The photograph slips between her fingers.

And then, slowly, some new words begin scribbling themselves in the back of it.

**_aren't you glad this happened instead? ;)_ **

She's had enough terrifying revelations for a year. For her _entire life_ , even. But even those observations feel too far away, too disconnected, to be truly hers, because she's still staring at the back of the photo and a thought is blooming in her mind like a particularly ugly, foul-smelling flower.

Hermione remembers hearing about the Squibs In Hogwarts initiative. Remembers looking into it to support it, stumbling upon the database of family trees that had been digged up to prove a point that doesn't matter right now, because she also remembers- she remembers searching for her own family tree, tracing the names up to her last magical ancestor, full of curiosity and- innocence.

Belle Wilkins. Belle _Wilkins_.

All the windows in the Gryffindor common room explode at once. An armchair suddenly grows legs and runs away, somehow setting itself on fire _and_ extinguishing it three separate times before it reaches the door. There's a loud, high-pitched sound of pain and anger and fear ringing in the air, so long and persistent that Hermione fears, distantly, that whoever —or whatever, most likely, because that's definitely not _human_ — is making it is going to run out of air soon and die.

And then she realizes- ah, the sound is coming from _her_ mouth. She should probably stop.

So she does.

But the photograph is still in her lap. And, in the table in front of her, there's the last piece of strawberry angel food cake, perfectly decorated and topped with a generous amount of whipped cream, almost _sparkling_ in its pure perfection.

She stares at it for a long, long moment.

Then, she gets up and throws it into the trash.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Nrandom, I hope you caught that angel food cake cameo. There you have it, it's in Satan's pit now _and_ not used in a sex act for once.  <3


End file.
